Life rises, even amidst death…
A Living Hull
There is know harbor
In the see of broke in hearts
Wear awe is fore sail
Soully to re-lease
The crack in
A living hull
That see’d
Playing amor
Then the role of the die
As life scapes
Hovering on waves of death
Its sublime grounding
Rooting for
That unfathomable
See bottom
In leagues unbound
And moving
By invisible wins
From above
Rigged by knot knowing
Soully to live
The life
Of a see fairer
A little Tao for the day…
More is Code – Owed to Lesson Won
More is code
Fore life repleting itself
With beginnings and ends
Dashes and dots
Transcending periods
Never the less in one
There is unspeakable poetry in silence.
A Whole Knew Language
There were knot words
Too de-scribe it
Amor, then it
Worth amor, then beings
Food buy awe
There is too know
Unspeakable poetry
In udder silence
A share in reality
Even every lessin’
Bringing amor
Beyond weighs and means
The truth
Lies without
God pronounced
As be, lo
Every breath
Some might say, this is the most perfect poem ever…
Legend Err He
He was a legend in his own
Mine
The key to under standing
Such a hollowed caricature
Begging for some type of caption
Awe the wile
Unfulfilling others
As the sores of fiction
Chasing tale
And yarns of being frayed
Tolled over and over
Soully to be haunted
Buy empty vassals
Nothing abut a pimple on humanity
Scaling up
Mountains of what
Remains
A farce to be reckoned with
Helled fast in his cockamamie perfection
Dare he err
As a pacifist and war resister, I have long been intrigued by the notion of locking up deeply nonviolent people so they won’t be around to not protect us…
Pacifists Aweigh
“Pacifists should be secreted aweigh so they are not around to not protect the wrest of us.”
Buy his own
Judgment
He was sow scared
Of the feral stand point
Of loving wons
Enemies
As holy wreckless
Sow dammed offensive
He had to
Harden his defensiveness
And drum up new weighs
Too a firm his own
A fence
A posed
To awe those
Neglecting won’s doody
Even halving too due
With the prize of free speech
Though buy in large
Just
Not being
Abel
Too square
That is
To rap his ahead round
Anything other
Then that soul solution
Of sequestering
Pacifist ambitions
Sow they won’t be round
Those square pegged
Mighty culpable of knot protecting
The wrest of us
Poet Lariat of the Proletariat
I am the poet lariat
Of the news cycle
Bad as biker
Of the proletariat
And their hang ups
Of awe kinds
That’s the catch
Amid heir
Having gone native
On the nativists
And awe those under standing
Hoarse
As a poet with no name
Barring rhymes with orange
Uddering the loudest
Unherd
Even in efface of gallows
Humor
As noose to me
Still
Carrying on
What might be left
Of me
And enduring right
American imperial logic often ends up being total war equals peace. Today, with our war on Iran, it is either purported military annihilation or attempted existential economic collapse, as the only way to peace. “War is peace” is straight out of Orwell’s 1984 doublespeak playbook — which, of course, was supposed to be a cautionary tale, not an instruction manual…
Per Suing Fore Piece
“We had to destroy the village in order to save it.” –unnamed Major American
Won just might
Halve two
Destroy a civilization
To save the wrest
As sue a side
For peace
Un-Abel to a void
That soul solution
Called final
The Narcissist-in-Chief is a great communicator in the sense that he is a giant flashing billboard for “Least Virtuous President”…
The Leased Virtuous President
He wreck in that
He could just
Buy it
Awe
The leased virtuous president
Ever
Scuttling the shit
Of state
And do
When it comes to spiritual madders, I try not to yuck another’s yum…
A Bird He Tolled Me
Out of his depth
He chuckled at the prayer answered
Much amor schooled
In preyers answered
Fighting the powers of this whirled
Standing on won’s hands
Humanity divided
On lifting a finger
When coming to
Divining intervention
God gets the drop, on me…
A Drop in the See
Weather I was awake or asleep
Awe I know
Is I had a vision
Of being
Under a tree wear reign drops
Washed
Over me
As engulf my sole
And flooding my ahead
Un-till I got the drift
Of a vision afar
Faith
As a tear in the ocean
A drop in the see
A drip in that facet of awe
That is wholly
In which I abide
As dew
My part
That drop let of God
Zionism kills. Imperialism kills. Ethno-states cannot be egalitarian.
Ethno States
“The current state of Zionism demonizes neighborliness with Arab Israelis and scapegoats all Arabs.”
O Israel
Lyin’ among lyin’s
Wearing war
That cloak of what might
Be truly
Unfriending
Unreconciling
Awe that they Cain
Mean wile
Still kvetching
They are sick of wore
Knowing knot of peace
In the wore of body politics
Clothed in partisan divides
Theocrats unearth
Nations soiling themselves
As Iran still
Roots
In Shah loam
Lost in both-sides-ism
A mist one side fitting awe
As prophesy mirrorly cruel
My hows, will be
A house of preyer for all peoples
Who makes a national list
“…for my house will be called a house of prayer for all peoples.” –Isaiah 56:7
As the Future Calls
They whir caught
In rapture
Buy shiny objects
And no’ing awe subjects
As drug into posterity
That main lyin’
Chasing belles and whistles
And tinsel souls
As awe that glitters is goaled
That tin sell reigns supreme
Can life
Just keep getting
Bettor and bettor
To know end
Sow wanting
To get
Out of hows and homme
Wading eagerly
Buy the phone
And as the future calls
Pick up
On that expiration date
Here is a poem about the untrammeled race to AI domination, akin to our suicidal extractive industries and lust for even cancerous “growth”…
A Monumental Steeling
The end of the world is far
Too profitable
To resist
As human weakness
A poaching
Machine levels
A big rush
Boosting our economy
In a monumental steel
Wanting more
In a dearth of moral fortitude
And in the thick of vacuous laws
A greed
Taking
A contract out
On ourselves
I find that life reduced to instrumentality is deadening. Rather, I find life as music to my years…
Instrumentality
Every con tension
Came down to this
How’s this work
Sow trying
Too make it
Humanity’s busyness
Fore getting humans
The vary accedes
To what we due
Lust in quarrel sum numb∙ers
Halving words
And leaden notes
Of instrumentality
Played
Abridge too afar
In practice reduction ism
As buy passing
The art of the quest in
House this work
Without memorializing creator
Of awe subjects
Not mirrorly shell company
Abut the unbridled music to our years
As care attune
As house this true
The impassable lyrics without poet
Life adding up in efface of infinitude
Divorcing rhythm and blues
As fool hardy har har money
Daringly spirited and still living
Between the notes
Wear nothing
Can unyoke us
From adorn naked truth
And splitting heirs
From awe that we bequeath
If you are not persecuted for being Christian, you might not be doing it right…
Persecuted Ass a Blessing?
“Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake…for so they persecuted the prophets who were before you.” –Matthew 5
Christ!
O don’t push me buttons
O pressed
O pressed
O pressed
A trinity of denial
As Christ inanity sow poor
That persecution sin drone
On and on
Knot as a sign
Of being
On the right
A track
Onto who
You soully are
If mirrorly
Political enemas
Shitty wins
In loo of holy one
“For if you love those who love you, what reward can you expect from that? Do not even the tax collectors do the same? And if you greet your friends only, what do you do more than others? The people who do not know God do that much. You must fully mature as your Father in heaven is perfect.”
Relax, it’s awe, right?
Just Be, Honey
There is a sweet whisper
In the wind calm
Hay, honey
Be
Just be
Taken
In
Flower power
Pleasing to awe tastes
Of queens and workers alike
Will is more dangerous than willingness. Know the difference…
I Will Won
When the shit hit
The fan
He lost it
It what might be called
Fecal madder
Making it necessary
Too cleanup on I’ll won
People who don’t trust anyone will eventually throw even the closest people to them under the bus. In politics, this looks likes scorpions in a bottle…
A Sting Operation
As a skeptical Scorpio
I halve my doubts
A bout knot trusting anybody
Such sketchy characters
In power buy the same
But what I due no
Is a sting operation
As scorpions in a battle
Creatures in the desert
Will sacrifice all that they kin
As caste out
As sow much carrion baggage
Thrown under the bus
And bye and bye
Character eyes
As soully shady
Doing every won
A favor
And all that madders
Is throne under
Is anyone surprised that the Bully-in-Chief has started an unnecessary war that he can’t get out of?
Forever Wore
They had
Gone
Too war
Chasing the elusive wins
Slipping between the fingers
Won at a time
Sow they were tolled
Till what was left?
Victory was right
Round the coroner
Forever wore
Led ballooning
Buy a king
With no close
Echoing
Into eternity
That resounding flail
Capitalism sucks…
Collateral Damage
If you don’t have
Collateral
You are
Collateral
In a damaged system
Your own
Is some won
Ails
